


Call me Herc

by raise_a_glass_to_fanfic



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: 100 kudos special, F/M, Famous people cameos, Fluff, Hamilton - Freeform, Hercules Mulligan - Freeform, Modern AU, More muscle milk, Peggy Schuyler - Freeform, Romance, and peggy, drunk is my middle name, herc attempts a pickup line, holy shit you guys are great, laundromat au??, pre-ham, really good cookies, the maintance closet dun dun duuuuun, theodosia is there for some reason, three part, washington has a Christmas party
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-20 22:13:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11930352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raise_a_glass_to_fanfic/pseuds/raise_a_glass_to_fanfic
Summary: Peggy Schuyler and her sisters visit Washington's for the annual Christmas party. In her opinion, thecookies are great and so are the guys, particularly that Hercules Mulligan.May involve John Laurens shoving an awkward Herc and Peggy into a maintence closet. Just you wait~





	Call me Herc

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! It's Lizzie here, and I'm presenting a special mini-series centered around the popular Peggy x Herc ship. I remember when I first discovered the pairing; I was actually disgusted since in real life, Herc was 18 years older than Peggy. But in this modern age fanfic, I've taken the liberty of setting their ages closer together! 
> 
> So, this three part fic is all because of you guys!~ The collab fanfiction I write with Serenity, "Drunk is my middle name," hit 100 kudos recently. When we reach 200, I'll post the second part of this fic, and the third when 300 kudos is achieved (that's a lot, but I know it'll happen!! You guys are just so awesome). So please support that story here if you haven't read it yet: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11201592/chapters/25017828
> 
> Thanks for the unimaginable support, and enjoy!~  
> -Lizzie

A week ago, if somebody had told Peggy Schuyler that a laundromat was the perfect place for a Christmas party, she would have laughed in their face. Not anymore.

She and her sisters had been invited to Washington’s by the owner of the flower shop they worked at, Ms. Ross. As far as Peggy understood, she and Martha Washington had a long history of boring old lady things like sewing and book clubs. So Peggy had been steeling herself for the most boring party of her life.

But when she walked through the door of the shop, in a soft yellow dress and three-inch heels (the better to make her look taller), the first thing she’d noticed was the lighting. Multicolor Christmas lights were strung up around the shop, illuminating the tables of desserts and drinks that Peggy was technically still more than a year too young for. Whatever laundry machines and racks had been in the shop before had been pushed away, replaced by disco balls and large speakers booming dance music. And in between the chatting married couples, she could spot a few guys around her age darting between the tables with drinks in hand.  
  
“What a mess,” she heard Angelica say from behind her. “The tables aren’t even all the same kind.”

“This _is_ a laundromat, Ang. It’s not like that stuffy New Year’s party we went to last year,” Eliza pointed out.

“Guys.” Peggy bounced up and down on her heels, somehow managing to not topple over. “Are you fucking kidding me? This is the perfect combination of desserts and chaos. Count me in.”

She could practically hear Angelica’s eye roll as she sprang off into the crowd, searching for the guys she’d seen earlier.

It was only a few seconds before she bumped into someone. Unfortunately, that someone just happened to be, judging from her boss’ description, George Washington himself.

“Sorry, sorry!” Peggy said. Normally she wasn’t one for apologizes, but she was grateful to this guy for letting her show up at his party.

Washington just laughed. “It’s nice to see some more young faces around here. George Washington,” he introduced, shaking her hand.

“Peggy Schuyler.”

He smiled. “You work for Betsy, don’t you?”

Peggy nodded.

Unexpectedly, he beckoned to a girl standing beside him. Peggy hadn’t noticed her before, but she was probably around twenty-five, with long dark hair pulled into a bun. She grinned at Peggy and pulled up the tips of her indigo dress in a mock curtsey.

“Theodosia Bartow. Nice to meet you.”

Peggy noticed a ring on one of her fingers. “You’re engaged?”

“Hopefully not for long.”

_Okay. Not going to question that._

“So, do you work here?” she asked instead.

“Worked, past tense. Only for a few months when Washington’s was just getting started. Now I’m manager at a bakery a few blocks away—I make some mean croissants. You should stop by sometime.”

“Yo, Theo!” came a voice from behind. “I know I just met you today but Lafayette collapsed in his drink and I sort of need help hauling his ass to the back.”

Theodosia cracked up as the speaker weaved through the tables to them. He had curly hair tied up, a plain suit that he’d somehow vandalized with splotches of paint, and more freckles than Peggy had seen in her entire life.

“Why don’t you get Hercules to help? He was bragging about lifting weights earlier.”

The guy reached them, grabbing a snickerdoodle from a side table. “He’s too busy chatting with some stuffy old guy about his passion for fashion.”

“Okay, okay, I’m coming.” Theodosia turned to Peggy. “See you later.”

The two of them headed off. Washington had mysteriously disappeared at the first mention of one of his employees drunk, and Peggy’s sisters were nowhere in sight. She grabbed some cookies from the tables (they were amazing) and craned her neck around to spot her next target for conversation.

That’s when she saw him.

He was tall, with dark hair cropped short and a very out-of-place beanie resting on his head. On top of his dark suit rested a tie embroidered with dozens of different stitches in every color imaginable. Currently, he was talking passionately to a middle-aged guy in white.

Peggy grabbed a fourth cookie from the waning pile on the main table and made her way over.

“—tried to get a job in the industry but they claimed sewing beanies and dog clothes can’t be taken seriously,” he was saying. “So now I work here.”

The man he was talking to turned around suddenly like he was being called. “That’s my cue,” he said. “Can’t keep George waiting. It was nice meeting you, Mr. Mulligan.”

“Call me Herc,” the guy with the beanie offered.

Then he was alone. Peggy decided to make her move.

“Hey,” she greeted. “I’m Peggy Schuyler. You work here?”

Herc didn’t look startled. Peggy reflected that maybe she hadn’t been careful enough following him.

“Hercules Mulligan. Twenty-two, Washington’s resident tailor.”

Peggy grinned. “Did you knit that beanie?”

He nodded. “And the tie. Washington wasn’t happy about that. Said it looked unprofessional.” Herc craned his neck around like he was watching to make sure his boss wasn’t near. “Like working at a laundromat is a serious career.”

Peggy laughed. “I can relate. My sister tried to get me to wear a different dress. She told me I look like a rotten lemon.”

“Yellow’s nice. I like all colors, though, so don’t ask me. Hey, I feel like I’ve seen you around—where do you work?”

“The flower shop down the street. _Ross & Claypoole’s Flowers_. With my sisters.” She grimaced. “Every. Day.”

He snapped his fingers. “I remember. I came in there once for some inspiration. You and your older sister were having a shouting match about being rude to customers or something.”

“Sounds like us. I can be pretty rude.”

“You’re like my friend John. Except not a jerk twenty-four seven. That’s him over there.” Herc pointed to the freckled guy Peggy had seen earlier. He was talking with Theodosia animatedly as he helped support another guy who looked really, really drunk.

“He said you have a _passion for fashion_.”

“Yeah, well—I sew and knit stuff, but it’s just a hobby. He should learn to shut up.”

Peggy laughed. She liked this Hercules guy. He could be pretty rude, too.

Herc suddenly groaned.

“Fuck, speak of the devil. He’s looking over here now.”

“Mulligan!” John shouted. “You’re done torturing that poor guy?”

Herc gave him the middle finger. John blew a kiss. He said something that Peggy couldn’t catch to Theodosia, who took over his job supporting the drunk guy, and bounded across the room to them.

“Hey, it’s you again!” he said to Peggy. “I’m John Laurens. Has Herc told you about his muscle milk fetish?”

“I swear to God, Laurens—” Herc tried to catch him in an armlock, but John slipped away.

Then he froze, eyes wide. A moment later his drink fell to the ground and shattered, casting liquid and shards of glass everywhere, as he suddenly dropped the shocked look and doubled over in laughter. “Holy shit, Mulligan—is that Washington playing pin the tail on the donkey with Benjamin Franklin?”

“You’re cleaning that up,” Herc told him, but looked anyway.

Peggy peering onto the makeshift dance floor, only half paying attention. The other part of her brain was imagining Hercules Mulligan with a muscle milk fetish.

“ _Shit_ ,” Herc breathed. “It is.”

Peggy cackled as she spotted George Washington ambling around blind, trying to stick a floppy felt tail on a donkey poster.

John joined her, but suddenly stopped. “Even better than that, Burr is here. Who let him in? I’m gonna go introduce him to drunk Laf.”

“Take a video!” Herc shouted. The shifting mass of people swallowed John up. “Wait, no. Get back here, Laurens! You have to clean up your mess!”

Surprisingly, John slipped back out of the crowd to rejoin them. “Okay, fair enough. Can you get me a rag, though? And some gloves.”

“He acts like a jerk,” Herc whispered to Peggy, drawing out a glare from John. “Especially when he’s drunk. But he’s actually a big softy.”

In less than a minute Herc had both things in hand. “Make sure you go torture Burr afterward.”

“Once I get another pint of Sam Adams.” John winked.

Herc patted him on the back. “Take it easy. Just because you’re old enough to drink doesn’t mean you should get drunk at every party, John.”

“Okay, _Mom_ , queen of hooking up with people at clubs.”

Something in those words made Herc’s face flush. “That was _your_ fault. And sooner or later it’s gonna happen again. Just you wait.”

“Fine. A _half_ pint of Sam Adams.”

Peggy found herself back at the table with the cookies, Herc following her. “Want a drink?” he offered.

She pouted. “I’m still underage. Angelica would kill me if I came home drunk, as much as I want to.”

He shrugged. “That’s fine too. It’s funny to watch all the drunk people when you’re sober. Like, there—Revere just knocked a platter of brownies over.”

“How do you know everyone?” Peggy asked. “I can’t even remember the regulars at the flower shop.”

“Washington’s old buddies, I guess. I’ve been around here for a while. This is my third time at this party. First time seeing you, though.” He smiled at her.

Suddenly, she felt suffocatingly hot. She took off her light overcoat. It didn’t help. She reached for one of the bottles of water on the table.

Herc frowned. “Are you okay?”

She nodded, unable to meet his eyes. “Fine. Maybe Angelica poisoned me or something. I wouldn’t put it past her.”

_Fuck. Why can’t I look at him. I just met this guy, I’m not gonna go crushing on him like some cheesy love-at-first sight romance movie—_

“I think I’m gonna go outside for a few minutes,” she mumbled. “See you later.”

She hurried away before she could see the look on his face.

She knew she was still young. She knew she was still finding herself. But what she knew most of all was that Peggy Schuyler was loud, and funny, and yes, sometimes obnoxious. Not that quiet, weak girl she’d shown to Herc.

She needed a moment to catch her breath.

Pushing open the door, she was met with a burst of cool night air. A few pedestrians walked by, glancing at her formal outfit as she slumped against the wall.

After a moment, the door opened again. She caught sight of Eliza’s white gown from the corner of her vision.

“You okay?” her sister asked.

_Yes. No. I don’t have a fucking clue._

She settled for, “Maybe?”

Eliza stopped beside her. “I saw you with that guy. Did he do anything to you?”

“No!” Peggy lowered her voice. “I don’t know why I’m so upset. Okay, so maybe I find Herc cute and funny and admire that he wore a beanie to George Washington’s Christmas party, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be able to talk to him like a normal person—”

“Hold up.” Peggy turned to Eliza to see that she was grinning. “You have a serious crush on him, sis.”

Peggy scowled. “Don’t tell Angelica. Anyway, he probably has a girlfriend or something. And I just met him.”

Eliza shrugged. “So what if it takes a little while to act normal? Get back in there and find out more about him.” She smiled devilishly. “He’d need to be patient to put up with you.”

“Have I mentioned that I hate you almost as much as Ang, Eliza?”

“Noted. Now go inside. You’re literally shivering. Where did your overcoat go? I’m gonna need it back after tonight.”

Without answering (she’d thrown it onto one of the tables and it was probably gone by now) she slipped back inside.

She found John, Herc, Theodosia, and Angelica talking in a circle. They were all holding drinks.

“Oh God, it’s my little sister,” Angelica said as Peggy neared.

“Fuck you too, Ang,” Peggy said, caught between staring at Herc and avoiding his gaze. “What’s the hot gossip?”

“Laf punched Burr,” John said, smirking impossibly hard. “I don’t think he’ll remember it, though.”

“Burr will,” Herc added. He high fived John, who then dissolved into a fit of giggles that made Peggy wonder just how much he had drank.

She couldn’t really pinship their relationship. It seemed like John went out of his way to irritate Herc to no end, who just pretended to mind. It was something she could relate to with Angelica.

With sudden relief, she spotted the overcoat Eliza had loaned her. Herc was holding it.

“Thought you might need this,” he said, handing it back to her.

“Thanks. Eliza would have killed me if I’d lost it.”

They held eye contact for just a moment too long. Peggy’s cheeks began to heat up.

When she finally tore her gaze away, she noticed John smirking even harder than before. And when Peggy stole a tiny glimpse of Herc, he looked impossibly flustered.

Angelica coughed loudly. “I’m gonna go get another drink.”

Peggy knew what she really meant was, _you’re all dumbasses_.

Theo followed Angelica as John headed in the opposite direction and beckoned for Herc and Peggy to follow him. “C’mon, guys.”

Herc let out an impossibly irritated sigh.

John lead them (somewhat unsteadily) to an empty corner of the room. His smirk had persisted over the last few minutes, if not grown somehow wider.

“Hey, remember how Washington made us clean out the maintenance closet?” he said, pulling open the door of the said closet.

“Yeah?” Herc’s voice was weary.

“Well, turns out that wasn’t a complete waste of time, because now it’s the perfect space for two people who want to be left alone. In you go!”

So quick she couldn’t catch it, John shoved both her and Herc stumbling into the closet. The door slammed behind them. She heard a key turn.

“I swear to fucking god I’m going to kill you, Laurens!” Herc yelled.

Peggy heard John cackling from the other side. “I’ll let you out soon. Probably.”

“I know it seems like Angelica hates me, but she’s gonna kill you!” Peggy called.

“She’s the one that suggested this,” John answered, still laughing.

_Well, fuck._

“Sorry about this,” Herc said softly. “John’s always annoying, but this takes the cake.”

“Don’t worry,” Peggy assured him. “I was getting bored of the party anyway.”

Not a total lie. Now that she was literally locked in a closet with Hercules Mulligan, the night was becoming a lot more interesting. Her initial shyness was melting away.

 _You don’t live forever_ , she could almost hear Eliza saying.

The closet was dark, but Peggy could make out the outline of Herc’s head and shoulders. He seemed to be fidgeting.

“You know when you said Angelica called you a rotten lemon?”

Peggy laughed. “Yeah?”

“I’d disagree.” A pause. “You’re a lot prettier than that.”

Her heartbeat raced.

“Really, Mulligan? Was that your idea of a pickup line?”

He was still fidgeting. “Hey, I can’t exactly look one up or anything.”

“Because I just met you tonight,” she said, “I’ll let it slide.”

She grinned and leaned in.

~ ~ ~ ~

So yes, Peggy Schuyler knew she was rude, and loud, and strong. She knew she could keep a party going all night, knew how to get guys to turn their heads as she passed and how to talk her way into a group of girls mid-conversation. She knew that yellow would always be her favorite color, and that she’d always enjoy irritating her sisters.

And, for the first time, she knew that she was no longer alone. 

 


End file.
